The Dream
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Kid Curry is disturbed by a recurring dream.


**The Dream**

 _A skinny boy with an unruly mop of brown hair stood before him, liquid brown eyes full of tears, his bloody hands outstretched. He stared back in horror. The boy's clothes were wet. Wet with blood. Huddling tighter into the corner he looked away, terrified._

 _"Help me," the boy said. "Help me. JED!"_

The cry jolted Kid Curry out of a deep sleep so violently that his hand drew the revolver from the holster beside his bedroll before he was properly awake. It was the dream again. Same time, every year of his life since he was eight years old.

Hannibal Heyes sat up on his blanket. "Whoa! Put the gun down Kid! I guess you were havin' that dream again," he added a little more gently.

"Aaw sorry, Heyes," Kid groaned as he holstered the Colt.

"You're gonna shoot me one day," complained his cousin.

Kid Curry sighed and put the retaining loop on his revolver. "Can't choose what I dream about. It's always happened, maybe it always will."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not now."

"Try and go back to sleep." Heyes squinted to see his pocket watch in the faint firelight. "It's a few hours 'til sun-up."

The two cousins settled down into their blankets. Kid lay on his back, put his hands behind his head and studied the stars overhead. He didn't want to close his eyes just yet; he knew he would still see the blood if he did. But sleep was something that very rarely eluded him and within a short time he drifted off into a fitful slumber once more.

 _He could smell burning and it was as if he could feel the flames. The smoke stung his eyes, even inside the henhouse. They hadn't seen him - he could hide here. Hide from anyone, except Han._

 _He had been there a while now - maybe the men had gone - moved on to another farm. He took his hands away from his ears and listened. The fire wasn't roaring any more. The screams had stopped._

 _Han appeared at the henhouse door his hands covered in blood. "Jed ya gotta..."_

 _"Go away, Han!"_

"Jed...Kid..."Curry woke with a start to find Heyes gently shaking him.

"You were talkin' in your sleep," said Heyes, thinking how strange it had felt to hear his childhood name again.

His cousin sat up and scratched his blond curls.

"I've made some coffee," Heyes said holding out a cup.

"Thanks." Kid sipped the hot liquid.

"We'll have to wait 'til we reach Pine Flats before we can eat. We've only got jerky left; not too appetisin' for breakfast. You can have some if you want."

"Ain't hungry."

"Now that's somethin' ya don't hear too often!" laughed Heyes as he packed up his saddle bags. He turned and looked on with concern as his cousin sat staring into his coffee cup.

"This dream. It's really gettin' to you this time."

"Hmm."

It took a couple of hours riding along winding pinewood trails before they reached Pine Flats, a little Colorado town in a wide fertile valley. Riding down the main street they noted the location of the Sheriff's office, the saloon and the cafe, until finally reining their horses to a stop outside the Pine Flats Hotel.

"Let's get ourselves a room, then we can stable the horses and go get us somethin' to eat," said Heyes as he dismounted and began to tie his horse to the hitching rail. Kid had barely said a word the whole morning.

"You get the room, I'll take the horses," said Kid gloomily.

"I'll meet you over at the cafe," Heyes replied handing him the reins.

Heyes wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his empty plate away with a satisfied sigh. Throughout the meal he had watched his cousin shuffling food around his plate before eventually taking a mouthful. The beef stew and dumplings was hot and tasty and under normal circumstances he would have expected Kid to have ordered a second helping but, at this rate, he would barely get through his first.

"What shall we do next, check out the Sheriff's office or the saloon? I know which one gets my vote!" he said cheerily.

"Think I'll just go up to our room," Kid replied. "I'm tired. Didn't get much sleep last night." He pushed back his chair and grabbed his hat. The bell on the cafe door tinkled and Heyes watched with mounting anxiety as his cousin strode across the street.

Heyes paid the waitress and thinking he would give the Kid some time alone stepped out onto the boardwalk in the direction of the saloon. He was just about to push open the saloon doors when he realised he didn't actually feel like having a drink or playing poker. Somewhat surprised at himself he turned and ambled back in the direction of the hotel.

 _"Come on, Jed."_

 _He pulled his knees in tighter. "Don't wanna go out there."_

 _"But...I can't bury them all, not on my own."_

 _He turned his face towards his cousin. Han's face was streaked with dirt and tears, his arms smeared with blood. He couldn't look._

 _He heard Han move closer, felt a hand take hold of his arm._

 _"Please Jed. It's just you and me now. I need you." Han's voice was barely more than a whisper._

 _He moved as if in a trance, followed Han out into the smoke-filled air. He saw the smouldering skeleton of the house. Then he saw them._

 _"NO!"_

Kid Curry's eyes sprang open to see his cousin sitting in a chair near the bed reading a book.

"How'd you get in here without me hearin'?" he asked sleepily, turning over onto his back.

"You were sleeping so soundly Kid, I don't think anythin' would've woken ya."

"How long have you been sittin' there?"

"Oh, a while."

"You don't have to babysit me, Heyes," grumbled Kid.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You wanna talk about it yet?"

"No."

"I know what you're dreamin' about," said Heyes. "You've been like this every summer since you were eight years old."

"You don't know that. We haven't always been together," Kid said defensively.

"Well, did the dream stop when we weren't together?"

"No," Kid admitted.

Heyes sighed. "It's about the day the raiders came, isn't it?"

Kid Curry hastily got out of bed, stomped over to the wash stand and splashed some water on his face. He returned to the bed, sat down and pulled on his boots.

"Where are you goin'?" asked Heyes.

"Out," came the reply as his cousin buckled up his gun belt. Heyes shook his head when the door closed with a thud.

It was well past midnight by the time Kid Curry returned and Heyes was sound asleep. Kid tried his best not to disturb him as he undressed and got into bed. Even though he had slept a good part of the afternoon Kid felt exhausted and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him again.

 _He looked around the farmyard. Ma in her apron, Pa next to his old rifle, his older sister Ruth. And Esther._

 _Han handed him something. A shovel. They dug the earth. Han helped him carry them, put them in the ground. Not Esther. He carried Esther. Four mounds of earth._

 _Han's hand on his shoulder. He looked down at his own. Dirt and blood mixed. He could hear someone sobbing. He couldn't see clearly, everything was blurry. His face was wet, the sobbing was getting louder... make it stop, Han! Please make it stop!_

Heyes struck a match and lit the lamp just as his cousin opened his eyes. Kid could feel his cheeks were wet and he hastily rubbed his eyes.

"Here," said Heyes throwing him a cloth from the wash stand. Kid caught it gratefully and wiped his face.

"We're gonna talk about this, now," said Heyes quietly but firmly as he returned to his own bed. He settled his pillows against the foot of the bed so that he was facing his cousin and waited for Kid to speak.

Eventually his cousin took a deep breath. "Sheesh, Heyes. I dunno if I can."

"It might help. I was there too Jed, remember."

Kid nodded slowly. "I know. I see ya every night. And I see the blood. Every night."

"There was a lot of blood," agreed Heyes.

"I can smell the smoke too, hear the screams. It's like it's happenin' all over again," said Kid as he turned onto his side and looked at his cousin, his blue eyes rimmed with red. "How come you don't dream about it?"

"I do, sometimes. Not as often as you and not as bad." Heyes paused and thought for a moment.

"I guess we just have our own way of dealin' with things," he continued. "After our folks were killed I took to pickin' fights... then I started pickin' locks." His brief smile turned into a frown. "It was my fault we ended up in the Home for Waywards." Kid nodded in agreement. "You, well you buried how you felt real deep inside and you've kept it there. That's what people see in your eyes when you're facin' them down. A sort of... controlled rage."

All Heyes could see in his partner's eyes at that very moment were unshed tears. "No kid should have to bury their folks like that," he added.

"But you buried your folks then helped me bury mine, Heyes. I don't think I could've done that."

"You were so young," Heyes reminded him.

"You were young too, Heyes."

Heyes smiled faintly and shook his head. "Aaw Kid, I've always been this old!" he said getting up and going over to his saddlebags. He rummaged inside and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey which was only about a third full.

"Want some?" he asked as he flopped back onto his bed and took a mouthful. His partner sat up and held out his hand for the bottle. They sat quietly, passing the bottle back and forth.

"She hardly weighed anything at all, y' know," Kid said eventually.

"Huh?"

"Esther. I was a scrawny kid but she still felt light to me." Kid ran a hand across his eyes again as he passed the virtually empty bottle back to Heyes.

"You _were_ pretty scrawny."

They both lapsed into silence once more as their memories overtook them.

Suddenly Kid swung his legs over the edge of the bed leaning his elbows on his knees. His blue eyes fixed intently on his cousin.

"Heyes, do ya ever wonder why we didn't die along with 'em?"

"As I recall, I was fishin' in the crick and you were in the henhouse," came the reply as Heyes drained the whiskey bottle.

"No, I don't mean that. I mean d' ya think there might be another reason? Like we were supposed to live, for some other purpose maybe?"

"Er, I don't rightly think the good Lord would've saved us so we could hold up railroads and rob banks, do you Kid?"

"No, I guess not. I've always wondered about that though."

"Whiskey's finished," said Heyes tossing the empty bottle onto the bed in front of him. "You wanna try and get some more sleep?"

"Might as well," replied Kid pulling his legs back under the covers. "The dream can't get any worse."

Heyes placed the empty whiskey bottle on the table by the bed, re-arranged his pillows and extinguished the lamp.

"G' night Kid," he murmured as he settled down to sleep. His cousin's reply was the sound of steady breathing.

Heyes was the first to stir. He noticed the sun spilling in through the gap in the curtains and guessed they had slept late. Looking over at the other bed he fancied he could still see the scrawny eight year old boy in the blond-haired man as he slept. Smiling to himself Heyes realised that the remainder of the night had passed undisturbed.

Maybe the dream had played itself out - for this year at least.


End file.
